


Dress Code

by pi_meson



Series: Dating [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 17:40:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3701085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pi_meson/pseuds/pi_meson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil is late for their third date.<br/>Carlos is concerned that there might not be a fourth date, but he has to be comfortable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dress Code

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psychosomatic86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychosomatic86/gifts).



> So Psychosomatic86 and I had a chat about Carlos wearing dresses and this was born.

"It's okay sweetie, see ya when you get here. Of course, speaking scientifically, it is impossible to see you before you get here. Unless you send me a selfie. Oh! Gotta go do something. Just... just get here when you can, honey."

Carlos put his phone back on the worktop and returned to his task. Cecil was running late and a little flustered about it, the way his voice wavered on the phone compared to the solid tones he used on his show betrayed his panic. After a minute, as Carlos checked the oven and turned the temperature down, the phone chimed. He picked it up and grinned as Cecil's face gurned back at him, hair all out of place, tie askew and top button undone. 

_You're so cute when you're in a hurry!_

Carlos considered sending a selfie in return. He dabbed rice flour on his nose, pulled a face and snapped a head-shot. 

_Dinner can wait for you. Bring wine, I forgot to get any._  
_Sure! Red or white? You got a new shirt?_

Carlos looked down at his outfit and frowned. Maybe it was a bad choice for their third date. Third dates meant something where he grew up. Third dates were discussed in hushed tones with close friends, or laughed about after too many beers. He did not often get a third date. Probably he wouldn't get a fourth, but he had to find out.

_Either, whatever you like. Not a new shirt._

He was proud of his outfit. It was comfortable, practical in the dry desert heat and he knew the warm colours made him glow.

Cecil arrived, banging the door and spilling apologies. Carlos stayed in the kitchen, smiling nervously and frowning intermittently, listening to Cecil make his way from the hallway through the living room to the tiny galley kitchen.  
"Hey Carlos! Hi handsome! I am so sorry I'm late. I had to see Station Management again _ugh_ then there was a line at the store because the cashier's hands kept attracting loose change and the sheriff's secret police were there to sort it out. Anyway, I'm here now and I hope dinner isn't ruined. I couldn't decide between red or white wine so I brought _fuck!_ "

Cecil stared at Carlos through the kitchen door, bottle of rose in his left hand, right hand over his mouth. Carlos frowned. He took the bottle from Cecil's hand.

"Thanks, I'll put this in the fridge for later."  
"You're wearing--"

Carlos opened and closed the fridge door but banged the wine bottle down on the worktop.  
"Yes. Yes I am."  
Cecil followed Carlos into the kitchen. He picked up the wine and put it in the fridge.  
"Hah. You missed the fridge. I got it from the refrigerated section of the store but it has warmed up a little since then. You look... nice."  
"Nice. Thanks."  
"Real nice. That colour, mmhmmhmm. Brings out the amber flecks in your eyes."  
Carlos smiled then turned. "Yeah?" He faced Cecil, feeling how small his kitchen was, and hot from the oven. Cecil leaned against the counter, frowning. Carlos scowled in return. "Is this a thing?"  
Cecil rubbed a hand through his hair. "Huh?"  
Carlos explained. "Is it a problem. Tell me now if it is."  
"Carlos, sweetie, I only see one problem here. You assumed I'd react badly and I did a bit because I had a picture in my head of you wearing your usual plaid and denim, maybe with a nice lab-coat, that long one I like because it's all swishy when you move. But honey, you took my breath away. When I saw you just there I... I dunno. I wanted to grab you around the waist and _dance_ because words just wouldn't express what I wanted to say." 

Carlos grinned. He put one hand on Cecil's shoulder and took his other hand, Cecil put his free hand on Carlos's waist and they rocked slowly back and forward. Carlos rested his forehead against Cecil's shoulder. Cecil closed his eyes and smiled, moved the hand that clasped Carlos's to join the other around his waist.  
"Kitchen really is not big enough for this."  
"Mmm, no."  
"Dinner is probably ready."  
"Mmm."  
"I'm pretty hungry."  
"Mmm. Me too."  
"Okay."  
Carlos stepped back. "Go sit down, I'll bring food." 

Cecil watched from the living room as Carlos busied himself in the kitchen. He stared, as if memorising every part from the bare feet on the floorboards, the swell of Carlos's calf muscles above slim ankles, the creases around the backs of his knees, the luxurious covering of black hairs on his skin occasionally catching on the soft cream lace edging on the hem of his dress. Cecil's gaze travelled up, noting how well the pattern matched at the seams, how perfectly it fit Carlos's shape, the loose knee-length panelled skirt narrowed to a thick waistband that joined a fitted, sleeveless bodice with a hidden back zipper and a wide vee neck that revealed more dark hair, curling over at the point. Cecil wanted to twirl it between his fingers.

Carlos brought two plates out and nodded towards the table. Cecil sat opposite Carlos and studied the neckline of the garment more closely.  
"I love the style. I like how the plain design allows the fabric pattern to do all the work."  
Carlos rested his forearms on the table. "Thanks. How's the food?"  
Cecil shovelled a forkful into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. "Great! Mmm, rice and beans. Just spicy enough. It's a real good fit on you."  
"Thanks."  
"It's really well made, the pattern even meets itself properly at all the seams."  
Carlos smiled at his plate. "Thanks. I know. It's quite difficult to make it do that."  
"Dresses never quite fit me right."  
"Oh?" Carlos looked up. "Yeah. Umm, this one is home made."  
Cecil almost shrieked. "You made it yourself? That's so awesome! You, umm, got any more?"  
Carlos grinned. "Wanna see?"

Cecil lounged on Carlos's sofa with a glass of wine as Carlos cleared the table before disappearing into his bedroom and part-closing the door. He called through the gap.  
"I got into theatre in college. My mother taught me how to make my own costumes and one day I thought _why not make something pretty._ It was a bit frustrating at first, I like to see results real quick, you know? Sewing makes me focus on the little details. It's actually very scientific. Measuring and..." Carlos appeared in the doorway modelling a long, deep-red dress with a wide neck, soft folds flopping diagonally across the front and fabric roses on one shoulder. It flared from his hips to the floor. "...cutting and piecing it together like a puzzle, matching colours and patterns and thinking in three dimensions or more. It's very calming. I should really have shoes with this one." Carlos pushed himself onto tiptoes so that the fabric draped properly over his hips and just skimmed the floor. "See?"  
Cecil swallowed and stared. "It's beautiful. It's perfect."  
Carlos smiled. "Uh, Cecil? Do you want to come through and help me out of this one?"


End file.
